


perpetual present

by racingshadows



Category: xxxHoLic, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - xxxHOLIC, Amnesia, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Red String of Fate, Reincarnation, Spirits, Wishes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-09 21:58:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16457816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/racingshadows/pseuds/racingshadows
Summary: Shadow, invisible phantom, another existence. A young man who saw them. Another who grant wishes. Promises, and desire; tied together by a thin string. There was no coincidence, only the inevitable.(xxxHoLiC AU)





	perpetual present

**Author's Note:**

> My piece for BNHA Halloween Big Bang! My partner, Sora, has also made an [art based on this fic](https://soraisconfused.tumblr.com/post/179606544934/my-piece-for-the-bnha-halloween-bb-i-did-it-with). :3
> 
> Special thanks to [coffeewing](http://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeewing) and [Kaleid369](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kaleid369) for the beta❤

**.**

At first, it was a whisper he could easily brush off and ignore.

“ _Katsuki.”_

Then, there were so many of them.

_“Katsuki.”_

_“Katsuki.”_

They were everywhere.

_“Katsuki, why are you so quiet?”_

_“Katsuki, why are you still here?”_

Katsuki walked faster, looking straight ahead as he tried not to clench his jaw and fought the urge to just _run_.

_“Katsuki, did you forget us?”_

He should have been used to this; he could see them ever since he was little. He was five the first time he saw someone— _something_ —in the bushes in the backyard. It waved at him, and he waved back, only to have his mother tell him there was _no one there._

Bakugou Katsuki could see ghosts and spirits, and they were aware of that.

_“Katsuki, why did you come back to the living?”_

**i.**

To be fair, it wasn’t like Katsuki had not tried to _fight_ them.

“Fuck! Off!” he shouted, clenching his fist, ready to throw a punch at any moment. ( _What_ , he actually _could_ hit spirits, based on experience.) “What the fuck did I tell you about _not_ bothering me in crowded places?!”

They were quiet. Katsuki _hated_ their goddamn guts so much; they only had the nerve to bother him in a crowd full of humans who would squint at and see him as the weirdo who punched the air and screamed at nothing.

(No, no, Katsuki would _not_ have one of those days, again. Not anymore.) 

Even then, it was _too_ quiet. The silence was eerie, and Katsuki could almost feel the chill creeping up his arms. Weird. Katsuki was so used to seeing them as shadowy figures, or sometimes human-like things with damaged faces or ruined body parts, but they had always tried to scare him with taunting whispers and hideous laughters. 

Whatever. Katsuki would not like to ponder about their behavior. He turned and walked away—and could still feel them following and approaching him slowly, and it made Katsuki almost laugh. Since when were they so _aware_ of their surroundings?

But still—it was weird. Katsuki could feel _all_ of their presences; behind him, ten steps to his left, and that shadowy figure behind the power pole—what the hell.

Katsuki walked even faster—. No, he was _not_ scared. Not at all. If anything happened, he’d punch the hell out of them. Not that he knew if they had already been in hell once.

Then, it happened so fast he barely had the time to think. 

Someone—no, some _thing_ —pushed him hard, knocking into his shoulder so he stumbled and almost fell down face-first, but he held on to the concrete fence. He shouted and turned back, but… it was gone. _They_ were all gone.

Katsuki realized his hand was still on the fence. He straightened up and looked at the house. He had been taking this route for a long time, so why didn’t he remember ever having passed this really weird house with a large yard and small building? 

Something tugged at his hand. He looked up and saw nothing, but he still _felt_ it; like a hand tugging his own, to pull him to the entrance. 

Alright, what kind of other shit did he have to go through again?

Katsuki was tired; he had been late to class and had gotten trapped in a crowded train. He was craving warm meals, a bath, and a bed right now. He didn’t have time to deal with this kind of shit again.

But something—not the weird supernatural crap—told him he _must_ go there. Suddenly—suddenly he looked at his hand and then back up with the realization that he had been here before. 

_Déjà vu_. He shook his head. He was tired. That was it. 

He was about to turn away, when that _thing_ pulled him— _forcing_ him to go inside, and it took him by surprise. Katsuki could only mutter, “What the fu—” before he was inside and standing in the yard.

He was not alone in the yard.

The force let him go as suddenly as it had pulled him, and he stumbled. In front of him, there was another person, their back facing him, and they wore a kimono with a _hakama_. Their hair was long; it was tied, but not _up_ , as it almost covered their entire back. Their hair was red and white, split evenly down the middle. 

They stood upright, steady—

A voice trickled in Katsuki’s mind,—almost as if someone had whispered the words to him. Katsuki had not watched archery before; even in high school, he had paid no mind to the sport. He had caught sight of people practicing, sure, but he hadn’t known the names of the techniques. Seeing them—made him remember what they were doing: _ashibumi, dozukuri, yugamae, uchiokoshi, hikiwake, kai, hanare, zanshin, and then: yudaoshi._

Katsuki opened his mouth and whispered the names as he watched them; their movements were swift, graceful, beautiful. They must have been doing this for a long time. Practice was not needed anymore; they were probably doing it just to keep in shape.

It was finished. They lowered their bow. Their head turned slowly, as if they were still in a trance of long concentration; their eyes were different colors, one grey and the other turquoise. Peacefully, calmly, the corner of their lips turned upward. They opened their mouth as if to say something to Katsuki, except the words weren’t meant for him.

Katsuki took a sharp breath.

They— _he_ was beautiful, even when his eyes turned cold and sharp. When he spotted Katsuki, the look of bliss and peace on his face turned stern, lips pressed into a thin line, and his voice—

“Can I help you?”

_Of course_ , Katsuki told himself, _of course he wouldn’t have remembered Katsuki in any other way._

**ii.**

His name was _Shouto._

**iii.**

“This place is a _what_?” Katsuki asked again. They were sitting on a veranda. Shouto was leaning on a pillar and seemed more interested in smoking his pipe than Katsuki. He inhaled the smoke and then exhaled it. Katsuki was so tempted to cough, just to annoy him.

“It’s a store for granting wishes,” answered Shouto. “If you’re here, that means you have a wish.”

“I don’t have a wish,” Katsuki said. “It was a coincidence, something happened and I—”

“There is no coincidence,” Shouto cut in. “It is only the inevitable.”

_Inevitable_. A chill ran down his spine. Katsuki felt like he had heard the word before… 

“You say it like there is nothing I can do to change it.”

“Maybe.” He exhaled, the thick smoke almost covering Katsuki’s view of Shouto. “But the inevitable _is_ the change.”

“Quit being so cryptic.”

Shouto looked at Katsuki with half-lidded eyes, the pipe still in his mouth. “What is your name?”

“Katsuki. Bakugou Katsuki.”

“How do you write it?”

“ _Baku_ like explosion—”

Shouto had the fucking nerve to _snort_ , and if it caused him to cough because of the smoke in his lungs, _Katsuki_ would be the one laughing, but of course Shouto didn’t even bat an eye and only continued to smoke.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I did not say anything,” Shouto replied. “So, _Baku_ as in explosion, then?”

“ _Katsu_ is from ‘to win’.”

“Sounds like you’re a difficult person.”

“What the fuck—”

“Your birthday?”

Katsuki sighed. “April 20th.”

Shouto nodded. “Here’s a tip: don’t reveal your full name and birthday so easily to a stranger.”

“You fucking _asked_ , asshole,” Katsuki snarled. “Besides, you gave me your name, too.”

“I only gave you _Shouto_ ; I did not give you my full name. Don’t know if I have one, and don’t really care about it.” Shouto blew another puff of smoke, watching it twirl in the air. “So don’t worry about it.”

Katsuki shook his head. “This is getting even more ridiculous. I’m going home—”

But before Katsuki could even stand up, there were _four_ cats surrounding his feet. 

“What do you wish for, Bakugou?”

“Okay, first of all, don’t call me that. We’re not even friends.”

Shouto cocked one eyebrow at him. “We are not? I thought we had something special since you told me your name and birthday.”

“That wasn’t—” Katsuki stopped. “Okay, you know what? I _do_ have a fucking wish. I can see ghosts and spirits following me around, trying to talk to me. It’s so fucking annoying.”

“That so? And?”

“And—” Katsuki hesitated as he looked down at the cats, who were also looking up at him. And then he turned to Shouto, who was still smoking and not looking at Katsuki, like he was looking at _anything else_ , and Katsuki remembered what he said earlier: _inevitable._

Katsuki was sure he had never met Shouto before this, but he remembered the exact smell of tobacco, the color of the cats’ eyes, the feel of the wooden floor under his hand, the way the wind brought out the smell of tobacco, and the orange tinge of twilight. 

Then, Shouto also looked, _saw_ Katsuki. His eyes glinted, a contrast to the red scar on his left side. Shouto did not recognize Katsuki— that, he was sure of. 

Still, Katsuki felt a familiar twist in him and he was uncomfortable with it. 

“I wish…” he said, voice low and deep as he closed his eyes and saw… a _shadow—_ not another creepy figure that haunted his bed—that he _knew_ , recognized as something so familiar and dear to him, and he wanted to reach out, to grab the shadow from the dark and see the colors come back to it—to see what made it something he was so fond of. “I wish… for this to be over.”

Shouto didn’t reply. Instead, he gazed at Katsuki with such intensity that Katsuki had to look up. 

Katsuki had expected him to ask, _What is it that you want to be over?_ Or maybe a simple, _What happened?_ Not that Katsuki would not mind it. Hell, he would mind it _a lot._ But nothing could be done about it as Shouto opened his mouth.

“Understandable.”

Katsuki blinked. He clearly did not expect Shouto to understand because—how could _he_?

“I will grant your wish. You start working here as of now, and tomorrow, come here at 8 am.”

“I,” Katsuki said, “start _what?_ ”

“Oh, I didn’t mention it before? To grant a wish, a price equal to the wish must be paid, and the wish you have is too great.”

“And the price is me _working_ here?”

“Like I said, your wish is too great,” Shouto said, like it was a fact. Katsuki was still unsure if this was a scam.

_Money_. It was so easy. Everyone wanted _money_ , everyone _needed_ money. He might not have much, but maybe it could be enough—

“Money is not the equal price,” answered Shouto, as if he knew exactly what Katsuki was thinking. “Wishes… have to be paid with an equal price, nothing more, nothing less, but with _right_ cost. If you were to wish for something else, a _smaller_ thing, maybe I could accept your money. But your wish is not like that.” 

Katsuki fell silent. Shouto was still peering at him through the smoke. His eyes stood out, even behind the smoke, even when the sky dimmed as the sun set.

Shouto broke his gaze, and asked, “Can you cook?”

“Of fucking course.” 

“Can you make me dinner now?”

“ _Now?”_

“Please,” Shouto said, clearly not meaning the _please_ part. “Yes, you start working tomorrow, but I hope you can at least make us some food tonight.”

“‘Us’?” Katsuki frowned, hoping Shouto meant himself _and_ Katsuki.

“The cats and me.”

Katsuki closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had been late to class, gotten trapped in a crowded train, was attacked by some spirits, and now, he suddenly had a new job.

“Oh, also,” Shouto said, “welcome to Wishes Winter.”

**iv.**

The cats’ names were Mandalay, Tiger, Pixie Bob, and Ragdoll.

“Together, they are the Wild Wild Pussycats,” Shouto said, petting one of the cats—it was ginger with brown eyes—in his lap. _Mandalay._ Katsuki had tried to remember each cat’s name; he was pretty sure her name was Mandalay. Mandalay watched Katsuki with an intense, smart gaze, and didn’t pay any attention to her owner, who was giving her a head rub. 

“Who the fuck called them that?”

“A customer gave them those names,” answered Shouto. “I think they’re cute.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes at that as he placed the plates on the table. The three other cats surrounded his feet, meowing at him. He glared at Shouto, who had already started feeding himself a spoonful of curry rice.

“They still haven’t had dinner,” Shouto said. 

Well, that fucking explained everything. Katsuki got up, took out the cat food from one of the cabinets, and filled the bowls near the sink. He got back to his seat, and _just_ as he was about to say grace before eating—a voice called.

“Excuse me! Is anyone here?”

Katsuki caught Shouto’s eye and heard him mutter, “A customer.”

Shouto stood up as he nodded, Mandalay still in his arms, and motioned for Katsuki to follow him. Then, he left without even looking back to see if Katsuki was behind him.

It wasn’t like Katsuki had a choice. He sighed, putting down the spoon. He walked to the cupboard, picked up two cups, and took out two jars of tea and sugar. No sugar for Shouto, and two teaspoons of sugar for the guest. He brought them to the living room, where they were already talking about… the customer’s condition? He put down the cups on the table and stood beside Shouto, waiting, and listened to the customer.

The customer was a woman in neat, pretty clothes, and she had long hair. Katsuki had _seen_ her somewhere before, although he was not sure where.

“And the doctor said there is nothing wrong with your little finger?” asked Shouto.

“Yes,” the woman answered. “I’ve gone to so many doctors, yet they all say the same. My pinky still hurts. I wish it didn’t hurt. It gets in the way of my work.” She held up her right pinky. 

Something...felt off. Katsuki wasn’t sure what it was, but something was off with the woman. It could have been her voice when she told them her story, or the way she glanced at anywhere but them. It could have just been her pinky.

“Oh, what do you do?” asked Shouto.

“I work as an editor of a fashion magazine,” she answered. “I don’t know what brought me here, but it seems like you can help?”

Shouto’s voice was low when he answered, “I can.” He tilted his head. “But there will be a price you have to pay.”

“I will,” replied the woman, voice firm and clear. “Just tell me how much money—”

“Do you have any bad habits?” Shouto cut in.

“Bad habits?” she repeated. “What kind of bad habits?” “Anything.”

She considered it for a moment, hand raised to her lower lip and fingertips lightly touching it as she pondered. “I don’t think so.”

“I see,” said Shouto. He took something out from his yukata sleeve and handed it to her: a ring. “Wear this on your finger, and we will talk about the payment later.”

The woman looked unsure, but she took the ring and put it on. “My husband will ask about it.” She grimaced. “It still hurts.”

“Wait a few days.” 

She looked up. “How much should I pay?”

“What if I ask you to pay with something else?”

She stopped. “Something else?”

“I don’t always accept money. I accept other things that are equal to your wish.”

She frowned. “I’m not really sure I understand, but I hope it’s nothing weird.”

“I hope so, too,” replied Shouto, and Katsuki could hear a little smile in his voice. “We will talk about the payment later, when you come back.”

She smiled at them both. “How do you know I’ll come back?”

“You will.” Shouto took the teacup and brought it to his lips, eyes never leaving the woman’s. 

“You are here; it is not a coincidence,” he continued. “It is inevitable.”

**v.**

The woman didn’t come back the next day, but Katsuki did. 

The first thing Katsuki did when he stepped inside was yell at Shouto for sleeping on the couch before sweeping the floor, dusting off all the rooms in the house ( _why the fuck_ did this house have so many rooms?), feeding the cats, and making breakfast for Shouto, who almost fell flat on his own face, if not for Katsuki’s shout.

“I’m sleepy,” was what Shouto had said for nth time that morning. (Damn, was it _still_ nine in the morning?)

“That’s what usually happens when you stay up late,” snapped Katsuki without missing a beat as he washed the dirty plates and cups.

“I just can’t sleep.”

Katsuki scoffed. “It’s because you drank too much coffee.” It was true; before Katsuki left yesterday, Shouto had asked him to make a pot of coffee.

Shouto yawned. “Maybe. But I have never been able to properly sleep for… a long time,” he said. “This is the first day I’ve ever slept. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll continue my peaceful slumber in my chamber.”

“Hey, hey,” said Katsuki. “I have a class at 2 pm, you have to wake by then.”

“Will you come again for dinner?”

“Do I _have to_?”

“Of course,” answered Shouto, as if he was stating the obvious. “I can’t cook.”

It was so fucking obvious.

Katsuki turned again to the sink, when Shouto asked, “What are you learning in university?”

“Chemical engineering.”

“Hmm, smart boy.” Shouto hummed. “You are a hard worker, Bakugou Katsuki.”

Katsuki didn’t answer.

“You work hard in school. You have been praised and complimented. Even at a young age, you had so many achievements. You can do _everything_.”

Katsuki glanced behind him. Shouto’s eyes were closed, his chin on his hand as he leaned against the table. 

“You don’t know anything.”

“Yet I do,” replied Shouto, standing up. “But the knowledge doesn’t come for free.”

Katsuki knew. He knew; he learned that whatever happened, whatever he got, always had a price he had to pay. He had always known that. He didn’t say anything else. 

**vi.**

The woman didn’t come back the day after. 

Katsuki had to yell at Shouto for falling asleep in the bathtub. He made him breakfast, fed the cats, cleaned up the rooms (Katsuki swore each room got dirtier _every single day—_ what the fuck did Shouto do after he got off work?), made lunch for Shouto before he went to class, attended class, bought groceries, then made dinner for Shouto.

Every day. He did this every single fucking day.

Yet the woman never came back. And not a single customer had come, either.

Katsuki wondered if the business even went well.

“Why do you never have any customers?” Katsuki asked one day, on the rare occasion Shouto did not fucking sleep. The cats were surrounding them; Pixie Bob was on Shouto’s lap, Katsuki stroked Mandalay’s head, and the other two cats were chasing each other.

“I do,” replied Shouto, phone in hands as he typed something. “They consult me through LINE.”

“They what.”

“LINE? That instant-messaging application? It’s easy and efficient.”

“I know what LINE is,” snapped Katsuki. “So they just send you a message? How do you even give them what they need?”

“Then they will come here.” Shouto said, looking up at Katsuki. “They will come back again.”

_Again_.

“Did you know I’d come here?” asked Katsuki— _fuck_ , he couldn’t help it. He was fucking curious. He remembered that strange pull on his arm, and how it made him step inside and meet Shouto. What the fuck was that?

Shouto lowered his gaze—briefly before turning his gaze on Katsuki. His eyes were cold, unreadable, as his jaw clenched. “I did.”

There was no room for any more questions in Shouto’s tone, so Katsuki dropped it, muttering, “I see.”

**vii.**

It was not like he could not see the spirits again. No, they were still fucking _everywhere_ : they were there when Katsuki left the house, peering from his neighbor’s windows, crawling on the ceiling when he walked downstairs, sitting on people’s shoulders, looking at him, _staring_. 

But they never made any attempts to get any closer to him. 

**viii.**

The woman did come back, after a few weeks. ( _Two weeks_ , Katsuki counted.)

“My pinky still hurts,” complained the woman, placing the ring on the table between her and Shouto. “It didn’t do anything, and it got so dirty.”

Shouto stared at the ring and Bakugou peered over his shoulder. She was right; the ring had rusted. They glanced at each other.

_How?_ Bakugou wondered. _It’s been only two weeks._

“Let me ask you again,” Shouto said. “Do you have any bad habits?”

The woman frowned. “I don’t have any bad habits.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes,” the woman answered, firm and clear. “I don’t have any bad habits. None that I can think of. But then again, why does it matter?”

Shouto did not answer, but pushed the ring closer to the woman. “If you still can’t figure it out, you have to wear this.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line, clenching her jaw. “Fine. Do I still have to come back here?”

Shouto considered this for a moment before answering, “We will see.”

She opened her mouth as if to say something else, but then she clenched it shut, clearly still unsatisfied with Shouto’s answer. Katsuki glanced at him. What was he thinking? Shouto must have known something about this _bad habit_ he kept asking about… why didn’t he just _say_ it?

As if he could read Katsuki’s thoughts, Shouto stared back, eyes hard and cold. It was like the first time they met in the yard— _solemn, stern_ — and Katsuki had rarely seen this side of Shouto during the past two weeks he had been working for him.

The woman grabbed the ring and stormed off without saying anything else.

**ix.**

The smoke vanished, then appeared again as Shouto exhaled it from his mouth and stared upward, leaning on one of his hands placed behind him. 

“You know something, don’t you?” Katsuki stood behind him, swinging his backpack onto his shoulder. “You know about her bad habit.”

“I do,” Shouto said before smoking the pipe. 

“Then why didn’t you say anything? Spare her from her misery.”

“It wouldn’t make any difference.”

Katsuki frowned, and when he opened his mouth, Shouto had already turned to him with the pipe in his other hand. “The knowledge doesn’t come for free, Bakugou.”

“I know that.”

Shouto upped his lip slightly, amused. “Smart boy.”

“Will she come back?”

Shouto already had his back facing Katsuki as he put the pipe in his mouth. “It depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether she realizes it or not.”

Katsuki was still confused, and Shouto did not help at all. “So what is it? Her bad habit?”

“I said.” Shouto exhaled the smoke, still not looking at Katsuki. “The knowledge does not come for free. But fine, let me humor you. Let me give you something that is free: you are going to be late.”

Katsuki cursed under his breath as he realized the time. He almost ran out the front door without asking anything else. He could hear Shouto shouting behind him; he wanted cold soba for dinner— _who the fuck had it for dinner?_

He walked quickly to the train station, almost breaking into a run. If he missed this train, _fuck_ Shouto and his unwillingness to cooperate and for being so cryptic. 

Thankfully, he didn’t miss the train. Just as he got to the platform, the train arrived. 

The train was rather empty, since it was not rush hour. There were only two other people in the car that stopped in front of Katsuki. When he stepped into the car, he saw _that woman_ sitting and playing with her phone.

Katsuki remembered the slightly upset look on her face earlier, and decided not to bother her. Maybe if she saw him, he’d just give a polite nod or something. He took a seat near the door, putting one earphone in his ear, and listened to some music he was familiar with. It was okay, he had memorized the lyrics, and knew where the melody was going. 

There was something he saw from the corner of his eye— a shadowy figure standing far away from him near the other door. 

He drummed his fingers against his knees, syncing with the drum beats he heard. 

The shadow moved toward him.

He focused on the lyrics, still tapping his knees with his fingers.

The train stopped, and more people quickly rushed into the car.

The shadow was no longer there, but those people brought out more—some shadowy figures sat on their shoulders, and sometimes they had faces, hands, feet, and some even showed their _teeth_ , baring them. 

Sometimes they were mere shadows, sometimes they looked like humans with broken necks, sometimes they didn’t have heads, sometimes they looked like girls with long hair and blood all over them—

They were all around him.

Katsuki tried to count the beats per minute of the song he was currently listening to, just to distract himself from looking in their direction and making chaos in the train. Not an event he’d like to repeat. 

He realized, however, that they did not even notice _him_. 

They moved sneakily, slithering from one person’s shoulder to another person’s head, from someone’s hand on a handle to another’s hand around a pole. Katsuki watched them all carefully, silently, hands still, ears barely listening to the song that had become white noise to him. 

They all gathered around the woman.

Katsuki couldn’t see her clearly—it was too crowded, and so many people were standing between them—but he recognized the hand with the ring on her pinky, and the color of her clothes. 

He had seen it before: the spirits were attracted to anything that _stood out_ , like Katsuki, like people who could feel their presence. He didn’t know if the woman could feel them, or even see them. She didn’t mention any of it in the shop. 

What was her wish, again?

_I wish my pinky didn’t hurt._

And what did her bad habit have anything to do with her fingers, anyway?

Katsuki tried to get a good look at her, watching her fiddle with her phone. Her pinky pointed out, the ring gleaming under the lamp. 

_What was her bad habit?_

The train stopped, and the woman tried to get up. Katsuki realized this was also his stop. He tried to move, to leave the train. It took him a few minutes to swim through the sea of people, but he eventually got out.

He swore he would never take a train again, but knew it was a lie. What choice did he have?

He didn’t have any choice regarding public transportation. Even when he took his bike, there were still some places that were too far away, and he had to take the train. But. He was used to it. 

When he was little, he refused to step outside of his house. _I don’t want to go_ , he had said. _It’s scary outside!_

Then his mother would get mad. _What is so scary outside? The sun is still up! Nothing can happen in broad daylight_.

She was wrong.

Katsuki had seen plenty of terrible, dreadful things under the sun. Hands emerging from the ground, sometimes hanging from the tree like fruits, or sometimes, instead of hands, they were eyeballs. Other times, when he walked past the park near his house, the swing would swing by itself. No one but him could see that there was a little girl sitting on the swing. The little girl had blood all over her, her hand twisted in some weird shape.

Well. Katsuki was used to it.

He took a look at his watch. Good, he still had twenty minutes before class started. He started walking, avoiding people—and spirits—passing by him. He saw the woman walking a few steps ahead of him, but she stopped to talk to other people. He didn’t stare at her again in case she glanced back in his direction. 

When he passed them, he heard, “Oh, it’s nice that you work as a doctor!”

Something was bothering him, but he didn’t know what. He kept on walking. The music was still on, but he didn’t listen to any of the words. 

While he stood in front of the cashier to pay for the coffee he bought in the konbini, he remembered he forgot his wallet in the shop. _Fuck_. He sighed, opening his mouth to apologize, when someone handed the cashier money.

He turned to the generous person, only to see the woman staring right back at him. “You’re that person from the shop, right?”

He nodded, taking his cup, and muttered his thanks.

They left the konbini together, partly because Katsuki had been taught manners by his parents, and one of those manners must’ve included not to leave a stranger after they paid for your coffee. 

“So, where are you headed?” asked the woman.

“Uh,” Katsuki muttered. “U.A. University.”

“Oh, that’s not really far from here. Do you work part-time there?”

“Yeah.” Katsuki nodded, sipping his coffee. At the next crossroad, he had to take a right and go straight to reach the university. He didn’t know where she was heading, and didn’t bother to ask. “Uh, thanks for the money.”

“No worries,” replied the woman. “I just got paid.”

“Oh. Where do you work?”

“I’m a teacher,” she answered. Katsuki frowned, but said nothing. “Anyway, I think the ring is useless. My finger still hurts, and people assume I’m married.” She pulled the ring off her finger.

“Shouto said you shouldn’t take it off.”

“Ah, well,” said the woman. “I don’t care, really. I’ll go to the shop tomorrow for the payment.”

Katsuki didn’t say anything as he glanced at the ring in her grip. From the corner of his eye, he could feel, _see_ , the spirits moving closer and closer. He stopped.

She turned to look at him. “Ah, I have to go across the street. See you later, part-timer.”

When she started to walk away, they followed her, hovering above her and slithering near her feet. Some of them had already reached her—Katsuki leaped into a run, about to shout, to warn her—

A bus hit her.

The screech of the brake rang in his ears.

Blood.

People yelled.

He couldn’t move.

The woman’s neck—

In the midst of the chaos, the ring rolled to him and it stopped when it reached his shoe. 

**x.**

“So you knew about this.”

“I did tell you that you were going to be late, Bakugou,” replied Shouto. They were in the living room because he had specifically asked Katsuki for dinner to be served there. 

Katsuki shook his head. “She lied. It was her bad habit, wasn’t it?”

Shouto nodded, sipping his tea. “What did she tell you?”

“That she was a teacher, but before that, I heard she was a doctor. When she first came here, she told us she was an editor. She also told me the ring made people assume she was married, but when she was here, she said her husband would’ve asked her about it.”

“When she took off the ring, what happened?”

“You know…” Katsuki stopped. Of course Shouto knew. He sighed. “They… followed her. They reached her.”

The ring was on the table, almost hidden between the bowls and plates and glasses. Shouto said he’d take it to the storage room after dinner. He nodded at Katsuki’s answer, and continued eating. Katsuki had no appetite left, especially after what he had seen. He didn’t touch his rice as he watched Shouto take a bite of ebi furai and chew and swallow—

“You knew about this,” Katsuki insisted. “You _fucking knew_ , and you didn’t say shit about it.”

Shouto glared at him, and put down his chopsticks and bowl. “It wouldn’t have made a difference.”

“Yes, it would have!” Katsuki gritted his teeth. “If you would have _just told her_ that she lied a lot, she’d have stopped and none of it would have happened! She wouldn’t have—” _She wouldn’t have died in front of me_ , but Katsuki stopped. 

“Bakugou,” called Shouto. “You being there, meeting her, was no coincidence. It was inevitable.”

“I don’t want to hear any more about this ‘inevitable’ bullshit.”

“Listen,” Shouto said. “Everything happens for a reason. It’s an old saying, cliché as fuck, but it _is_ true.” When Katsuki didn’t say anything else, he continued, “Her little finger hurt because she lied. It was a bad habit she could not grow out of. The little finger is usually used for promises, and it has more of an impact on a person’s habit.”

“I still can’t see the point.”

Shouto sighed. “It’d be pointless if I told her, and she didn’t realize it herself. She would _have to_ figure it out by herself. Which was difficult, because it was a _habit_.”

“Look, I have a habit, as well. If someone didn’t fucking point it out, I wouldn’t have a clue.”

“And if they _did_ tell you, would you stop doing it immediately?”

Katsuki hesitated. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. 

Shouto nodded. “Then it would have been pointless. Had she, say, realized it sooner, she’d have stopped doing it, and wouldn’t have met her death.” 

Katsuki considered it for a moment, but there was still another thing. “And me meeting her? Me watching her get hit by a fucking bus because the driver was drunk as fuck and speeding through the fucking red light?”

“You can’t see it,” said Shouto, “but there are strings attached to one person to another. Each color has a different meaning.” He glanced down at his hands on the table, not looking at Katsuki. “White is for familial attachment. Yellow is for platonic souls. Blue is for strangers passing by. There was a blue string attached to your little finger, leading to that woman.”

“Are you fucking saying that red strings of fate exist, and only the red one is not real?”

“Red…” Shouto hesitated, finally looking up. “Red is for soulmates.”

Katsuki held his breath, suddenly—he knew. He knew what Shouto was going to say. He heard a _click_ in his head; everything just… _fit_. Everything made sense and it was so surreal at the same time. It couldn’t be—

“We are soulmates, Bakugou.” 

Katsuki glanced at his hand. He couldn’t see it, the fucking red string of fate. If it existed at all. What was this fucking nonsense. He voiced his concern.

“I can see it. And others’, too.”

“You’re lying.”

“I am not,” replied Shouto. 

Katsuki was still staring at his finger. Shouto had never lied to him, not even about the woman. Somehow, Katsuki… believed him. He released the breath he was holding, feeling relieved for no reason—

_Shouto was his soulmate._

But—it still didn’t make any sense.—He had _just_ met this person—

“You coming here was not a coincidence,” said Shouto, as if he could read Katsuki’s mind— _wait, could the string somehow connect their thoughts? What the hell?_ —and he added, “It was bound to happen. You and I were bound to meet. We’re connected by this… bullshit, as you might call it.”

“This is such fucking bullshit,” Katsuki agreed.

“Yet you seem to trust me,” replied Shouto, picking up his chopsticks.

“This is a scam.”

“Yet you’re still here.” Shouto hummed as he took another bite. “And for your information, I only took your time and energy, not your money.”

“That sounded fucking ambiguous as hell.”

And for the first time since Katsuki had met him, Shouto laughed. The sound erupted from him as he covered his mouth with his hand, his whole body shaking, and his _eyes_ —they were bright, glinting, as they met Katsuki’s, and Katsuki faltered. 

Shouto was… beautiful.

It was not a sudden realization— _heck_ , he knew Shouto was fucking pretty as hell. He had that knowledge— _free knowledge—_ at the back of his mind, but to see his whole face light up because of some fucking stupid thing Katsuki had said (and it was not even intended to be a joke) was just… _hell_ , why couldn’t Katsuki just forget about the bullshit Shouto was talking about?!

“I realize that,” Shouto said after he calmed himself from the laughing. “But here’s the thing.” His voice sounded more serious, and Katsuki saw the change in his face; eyebrows furrowed, eyes stern. “You wished for something, and I have yet to fulfill it. You could leave here, but we will still be bound to meet.”

Katsuki pursed his lips into a thin line. “Do I even have a fucking choice?” He took his glass and brought it to his mouth, tasting the bitterness of the tea. 

Shouto lips curled up at the corners. “You do,” he answered. “But your choice won’t be a coincidence. You will think it’s your choice, after all, but what you _choose_ is actually what has waited for you all along.”

Shouto waited for his reaction, and when Katsuki said nothing, Shouto smiled.

“It is inevitable.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://rcngshdws.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/rcngshdws).


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